


A Kind of Magic

by fyredancer



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, Humor, M/M, Magic, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:09:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've always said Tom's taunting of the fair sex will get him fucked. When a fangirl takes it upon herself to show Tom the other side of the equation, Tom gets BOOBIES.</p><p>Bill actually does like boobies.</p><p>Maybe this will end up as predicted after all...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Eternal thanks to ma_chelle for being the best beta-cheerleader in the world! And loving Bill as much as I do. ♥ And cheering me on with all the...Tom abuse. >_>
> 
> To pseudoblu, for lobbing that bunny at me so damned hard. I guess cynical_terror deserves a mention for FEEDING it. :P
> 
> [First Lena did this.](http://umetnica.deviantart.com/art/Girly-159983501)
> 
> And then I did this. >_>

"What's the most important travel item for you, spending so much time away from home like this?"

"Condoms," Tom interjected, before anyone could have their say. "Always condoms, everywhere I go. Lots of them."

Bill rolled his eyes as the camera established a wider shot to include him. "I was going to say Tom," he said, and waved an expressive hand. "But I think my answer is, I make sure I have one big bag with everything I need."

"My laptop," Georg interjected, leaning forward although they had all been mic'ed, so there was no twin to wrestle for the honor. "So I can Skype with my girlfriend."

The interviewer cooed, and turned expectantly to Gustav while their stocky drummer folded his arms and stared off into the middle distance. He could have been contemplating the question or tuning them all out.

"My bandmates," Gustav said, utterly serious. "Anything else is something I could buy. Drumsticks, a phone, personal items."

The interviewer nodded and moved on to the next question. "In terms of dating, what would each of you say is your relationship style?" she asked, fanning a large white notecard and peering expectantly at the twins. "Long-term, looking for love--"

"Looking for love, definitely," Bill repeated. "I am a romantic, I don't want someone only for one night, that's so sad to me..."

Tom cut in, "My style is more brief, more...how do you say? Like, pump them and dump them." His hands raised and he wiggled in his seat a few times as though to simulate the act.

Bill pulled a disgusted face.

The interviewer widened her eyes and turned to Georg.

"I am currently dating, so..."

The interview progressed in typical fashion, no surprises – they vetted the questions, always; standard procedure for Tokio Hotel interviews, even when they were on live broadcast. There were no new answers, no new questions, the camera men moved around the room getting different angles – it would be broadcast on a music television show, as well as selected clips to air on Tokio Hotel TV. When the interview concluded, they all shook hands with the pretty, petite brunette interviewer and filed off to the side of the broad, open conference room where a group of shining-eyed fans awaited the meet and greet that had been arranged.

The initial plan had been for an interview only, with a select group of fans invited as the "audience," but it had metamorphosed as these things did into an impromptu signing session for the girls who had been waiting for so long, some since yesterday. The young men fished markers from their pockets and headed for the line of shaking and crying girls.

Tom hitched his pants up and ambled toward the little ladies, twirling a fat blue marker like a drumstick. There was a bleached-blond with flat-ironed hair and an intense expression at the forefront, jostling her peers to come face to face with him, and he offered her a small smile as he lifted his pen.

"You're a pig," the blond told him.

Tom gaped as the girls around her gasped.

"What did you say to me?" Tom snapped, looking around for whatever hapless PA had let these girls through without prepping them on how to act around the talent.

"You heard me," the girl challenged, and shifted to a disappointed tone. "Pump them and dump them, really?"

Tom shrugged and avoided her eyes. He was pretty sure it was about as lewd as it sounded; it was a phrase he'd picked up from a movie and had been toting around waiting for an interview to whip it out. He hoped karma took into consideration that he didn't _have_ women, not like that or in any respect...not anymore.

"Can I sign something for you?" he offered, raising his marker and determined to get back on script.

"How about your phone number?" the girl returned. "For me...or anyone. Prove you can get to know a girl, talk to her, before you advance the relationship..."

Tom waggled his eyebrows. "It's not exactly conversation I'm looking for out of the ladies, if you know what I mean." That much was true. He expected fangirling. Screaming. Cameras shoved in his face. Hopefully record and track purchasing rather than illegal downloading.

The blond's shoulders slumped and she glared up at him as though he'd personally offended her.

"Here," Tom said, raising his marker to sign an upraised CD for the girl beside her.

A hand shot out to grip his wrist. Tom found himself staring down the blond, whose eyes burned into his.

"You'll remember this," she said. Her fingers were icy-hot against Tom's skin, generating a crawling, tingling sensation. "Mark it well."

Tom frowned over at her but one of the tank-like security men was already prying her off him, pushing her back and pointing firmly toward the exit. The blond left without a backward glance and Tom gave himself a brief shake, scrawling his signature by rote on the offered bits of paper, magazine posters, pieces of art, and more that were shoved toward him by the crowd of girls that closed around him like a wave.

The rest of the session went without incident. Tom couldn't shake off a sense of unease even as they were shuttled from interview to airport, but let himself get swept away in the go, go of their hectic schedule.

It left a bad taste in his mouth, but what could he do?

* * *

Tom jerked awake the next morning, sucking in a great gasp of air and recouping from a dream in which he was being smothered with a pair of giant pillows. From airport to car, car to home, home to dog-walking until all the furry babies were ready to pass out along with Tom, the afternoon and evening had been one non-stop chain of go, go, go until he'd collapsed into bed. The clock beside the bed read 11:30 and he scowled. He usually didn't wake until the early afternoon.

Beside him, Bill was smacking his lips in his sleep and mumbling something about jubblies. Tom sighed, heaving himself up to roll onto his side, and a pair of softly-jiggling promontories made themselves known.

"Uhh." Tom flopped back onto his back and stared down his front.

A pair of modest but well-shaped peaks rounded out the sheet lying over him.

Tom plucked timidly at the sheet. He'd gone to bed in nothing but his boxers, as usual, but _not_ drunk. How could Bill have stolen in and pranked him with a stuffed bra? Besides, it didn't _feel_...

His eyes widened. He'd felt it. That wasn't a bra. It was...

Tom ripped the sheet off his front and screamed. A dainty, girlish, in no way masculine scream.

"Tom, what the hell..." Bill began, waking with a start and propping himself on one elbow. He was tousled, dark hair flopping everywhere, traces of stubble stark over his upper lip and chin as he squinted over at Tom. "Wow. Uh. Shit."

"Shit doesn't even begin to cover it!" Tom cried out, cupping inexplicably more delicate hands around a pair of beautifully-shaped knockers, the likes of which he hadn't touched in years. "What the fuck. What the _actual fuck!?_ "

Bill pushed himself into a more upright position, amber brown eyes somewhat more alert. "I thought we'd talk about it before you'd go through something as serious as transition," he said, reaching down to pet one of the dogs as she shifted and whined softly.

"I'm a girl!" Tom yelled at him, sitting up and thrusting the breasts at Bill, who eyed them with more avidity than he'd regarded any of the hundreds of thousands of fangirl racks he'd seen in their day.

"So I see," Bill replied, still staring. He reached out for Tom's chest and Tom slapped his hand away. "Hey! Don't be stingy. What's yours is mine..."

"Yeah, but this happened _overnight_ ," Tom pointed out, looking down at his - _her?_ was he going to have to change his personal pronoun? - front and taking in other changes. Sleeker, curvier hips, the obvious supple breasts, a narrow waist...the boxers riding low on trim hips suddenly seemed like an impenetrable barrier. The changes probably extended all the way down, meaning...

"Maybe you were cursed," Bill offered, interrupting Tom's train wreck line of contemplation.

"You think!?" Tom yelled, springing out of bed. The bare breasts jiggled and Tom palmed them with a groan. Nipples hardened under his thumbs and Tom gazed raptly down at the newness of breasts, coming to terms with the fact that he was 'she,' hopefully a temporary condition but for now, undeniable.

Something was tingling between Tom's legs.

"Tomi?" Bill said, sounding terribly young and uncertain. "This isn't a dream, is it?"

 _She_ sighed and tried to figure out whether she was turned on or had to go to the bathroom. "No, Bill," Tom replied, glancing over her shoulder at Bill, sprawled against white sheets with a fold riding low over his groin.

The tingle between her legs intensified. Turned on, she decided, but hurried off to the bathroom anyhow.

"Tom!" Bill called out forlornly. "You'd better not go prospecting without me!"

"Right," Tom muttered. "Because there's gold in those hills." She stared at the full-length mirror and assumed a speculative smirk.

"What do you want me to do?" Bill wanted to know.

"Get Jost on the phone," Tom replied, and set a hand to the waistband of her boxers. After a second of consideration, she leaned over and flicked the lock on the bathroom door.

Twenty minutes later, Tom was ensconced in a chair in their wide, bright kitchen, sipping coffee, clutching her phone in a death grip, and trying to come to terms with the fact that the changes did, indeed, go 'all the way.' She recalled with churning anger the moment that fangirl's hand had locked around her wrist as she'd promised Tom would remember the encounter.

"Someone needs to find that girl who called me a pig," Tom told their manager, speaking into the numb silence on the other end after giving a quick update spiel.

"I'm sorry," Jost said for the third or fifth time. "Did you say you've been turned into a girl?"

Tom set her coffee mug down with a bang, sloshing coffee everywhere. "You're useless," she accused.

"Do you know," Jost began in a low, ominous tone, "how often you boys have pranked me over the years? This isn't even a _good_ one." He snorted.

Tom let out a short, angry scream. She pulled the phone away from her ear, ignoring Jost's tinny queries, fumbled with the settings on the mobile device, pulled her shirt up, and took a picture. Bill watched the whole procedure with fascination.

"You think I'm faking it?" Tom yelled at the receiver. "Take a goddamn look, then!"

After a moment of silence, Tom lifted the phone back to her ear in time to catch the faint choking sound.

"That's a really good Photoshop, and I admire your commitment to the lie, but..."

"I'm not lying!" Tom fumed, hefting her phone in preparation to hurl it across the room.

The phone was plucked from her hand and Bill spoke into it. "Check the photo properties, go ahead," Bill challenged. "Tom took that photo just now. And those breasts are 100% not Photoshopped; I was subjected to them in person. No. Yes. _Yes._ Ah, fuck you."

After another moment, Bill passed the phone back over.

"What the hell," Jost said into Tom's ear.

"You're telling me," Tom said, raising her brows. "Look, I need you to find me that girl from yesterday. The blond that security kicked out. Seriously, Jost - and cancel everything we were supposed to do today, I'm not making any public appearances until this is fixed."

Jost whined more about that than he had regarding Tom's incredulous transformation.

* * *

Pacing was no good. Even wearing over-sized hoodies over double-x-large t-shirts didn't disguise the curves in front – if anything, the clothes that had been comfortably baggy before swamped Tom's slenderer, curvier frame. Playing with the dogs couldn't burn out the restless energy and sitting to watch the movies or games that had remained unwatched and unplayed for ages had no appeal when practically every intake of breath set the breasts to heaving, which had severely distracting results.

For both of them, because Bill kept fluttering his hands around like he wanted to reach out and touch them, and Tom...Tom wanted to _let_ him.

"I can't do this," Tom declared at last, slamming her laptop shut after the fifth attempt to Google gender-related curses.

Bill watched her storm away from the living room with wide, somewhat enthralled eyes. "Tomi, we should get you a bra..."

"I am _not_ staying female long enough to need one!" Tom swore, flipping her infuriating brother off as she stomped through the house kicking things.

It was a curse, Tom thought, re-tracing what she knew. Curses had to be broken, lifted, or the requirements had to be fulfilled, whatever that meant.

Tom had been a pig, or so the girl had accused – had _acted_ like a pig, rather, because that girl didn't know Tom. None of the fans knew them, no matter how much they professed to love them and care for their well-being and sop up every detail of their lives that was leaked by Bild or interview tidbits dropped like breadcrumbs. For acting like a pig, Tom had been turned into a girl. In order to turn back into male Tom, she would have to...

At that point Tom drew a blank. She'd have to do something. She couldn't do _nothing_ and expect it to go away, reverse, restore her to her natural glory. She chewed on her lip, kicked a sideboard and stubbed her toe, and swore.

She found herself in the music room and stared around at a familiar row of racked guitars, taking in the scents that meant peace and playfulness, melancholy and overdrive. She closed her eyes briefly and nodded to herself. Through everything, the best and the worst, Tom and Bill had music. It seemed only fitting to calm her nerves with a bit of Gibson-tuning now.

"If I was having an affair with anyone, I'd be having it with you," Tom told her favorite guitar, striding up to it and unracking it with confident hands. The neck felt subtly different in her fingers and she frowned.

It was only when she slung the guitar strap over her shoulder that the fundamental impact of the changes to her body came into sharp focus.

"No," Tom moaned, whimpering as the strap pinched her left tit. She tried to shift it around and bit her lip when the guitar bumped painfully against her hip. She began to adjust the strap and the stock whacked her in the head. "Fuck! No, no, no..." She sat down and wrapped her arms around her beloved Gibson and began to take deep, gulping breaths.

The breasts were still there.

Tom's breathing grew high, rapid. She began to feel light-headed.

"This isn't happening, this isn't happening," she told herself.

Tom got up to rack her guitar again, her breathing pushing high and fast. "Fuck, fuck..." She was freaking out, couldn't help it. She was probably going to pass out, next, and would never quite get over the ignominy of fainting.

Arms circled her waist from behind and Tom went rigid for a split second, not surprised as much as stiffening with acknowledgment that Bill was there. A sharp chin dug into her shoulder.

"Breathe," Bill instructed, and inhaled deeply as though to demonstrate.

Tom opened her mouth to retort or curse, wasn't sure which, and sucked in a great gulping breath. Not the short, panicked exhalations of hyperventilation but an actual breath, and kept going as Bill's arms tightened around her and soft, regular breathing stirred her ear. Tom began to nod and leaned back against Bill.

"I can't play guitar," she confessed, punctuating it with a miserable sniff. "It pinches, and it's all wrong, and I tried to adjust the strap but even my fingers feel different...I, I..."

"Come," Bill said, turning Tom in his arms and grasping her shoulder. He ran his fine slender fingers down Tom's arm, making hairs prickle in the wake of his touch, and took Tom's hand.

Tom followed Bill across the room and let Bill tug her down onto the piano bench, thinking Bill meant only for them to rest a moment while she caught her breath. When Bill folded the keyboard cover back, Tom glared over at him.

"I..." she began, looking down at her gently-bobbing front as she formulated her protests.

"You can play the piano," Bill filled in for her, his brown eyes calm, expectant.

Tom twitched and looked down at the traitorous giveaway of the swells beneath her shirt. Nodding, she bit her lip and brought her hands to the keys arranged before her in calming rows of ivory white and jet black. Bill was beside her, their thighs nudging, shoulders touching, and Tom nodded to herself. This was familiar, this was the very same.

She splayed her fingers over the keys and pressed them to shape the first chord.

Bill hummed beside her, threading his voice with the melody as Tom let it unfold around them.

At any moment, Tom expected Bill's low voice to strengthen into song, but he didn't pick up from Tom's intro. He let Tom play the course of the song, humming along, and bumped shoulders with her as Tom reached the conclusion and ran her fingers over the keyboard with a flourish.

"Better," Tom allowed, looking down at her chest again. The proof of her transformation was still before her. There was still some form of penance to be paid.

"It's gonna be okay," Bill said. "She did it to teach you a lesson, you know?"

"Yeah, now we have to figure out what that is," Tom replied, morose.

* * *

Tom opened eyes to thin slits, weighed down heavy with sleep. She blinked a few times, dubious about returning to consciousness. A quick look downward ascertained that yes, the adornments were still there.

A part of her, superstitious and foolish, had thought if she took a nap on the couch, she'd wake with the opposite state reasserted. She had wanted to close her eyes and make it all go away.

Tom sighed and pushed a hand up her shirt. Past the freak-out, denial, and hyperventilation, she was reaching a comfortable state of horniness, calm within the circle of Bill's arm draped over her stomach. When all was right in their world, when time stopped for them, they had each other. They always had. It was the default setting, normal and what they needed, to want each other.

Tom stroked past her sleek stomach and feathered her fingers past her ribs. She cupped one breast in her hand and her eyes fluttered as her thumb brushed the delicate coin of a nipple, making it harden at once. She bit her lip hard to prevent any sound from escaping.

Bill murmured near the back of her neck, arm constricting for a moment. He moved against Tom, bumping against her rear.

Tom was pretty sure it wasn't Bill's bony hip poking her.

"You're hard?" Tom said, incredulous. "This turns you on?" Guiltily she pulled her hand off her breast. She _had_ been prospecting without Bill.

"No!" Bill protested, muffled against the braids that draped the back of Tom's neck and over one shoulder. "Not...your situation, but. You know. You turn me on – I can't help it, Tomi. You're so soft and you smell good and you feel nice and we're warm and comfy..." He licked the back of Tom's neck and one hand moved inevitable as the tide from stroking Tom's stomach to span over her ribs before moving to cup one pert breast.

"Ahh," Tom sighed, arching her back. The move pressed her ass directly against Bill's hardening cock and they both made a pleased noise.

Bill cupped her breast more firmly and rolled the nipple under his thumb. A groan slipped out of Tom, deeper than expected, almost masculine, and she wriggled against Bill - as good as it felt to touch herself, that had been a thousand times better. She squeezed her thighs together and the tingling at her groin intensified. Tom wanted to slip a hand down into her boxers but didn't quite dare.

"I want to," Bill murmured in her ear. "I want everything you are, Tom. This too. Don't you?"

"Mm," Tom responded, eyes rolling back into her head as Bill rubbed against her slowly from behind. The hot press of Bill's cock against her cleft wasn't unfamiliar; they swapped roles every now and then, though Tom preferred topping by far. The newness of sensation between her legs was different, exciting and scary by turns, and if it wasn't Bill's arms around her, Bill's scent and warmth creating a cocoon of familiarity, Tom might have had a severe anxiety attack by now.

"How does it feel for you, Tomi?" Bill whispered in her ear. He kissed her neck and ran his tongue along a tendon.

"Ohh," Tom moaned, pushing back against Bill. The sensation between her legs pooled, multiplied, a pleasure gathering unlike any she'd ever felt. If she had a cock, it would be erect; if she was a man, she'd say she was close to orgasm. And yet they'd hardly begun. "Like I want you...ahh!"

Bill had slipped his leg between both hers and he was rubbing his thigh between her legs, drawing fabric tight across her crotch and instigating pressure that made the building sensation magnify, blooming heat through her belly. She put a hand down there at last, pressing herself through her boxers.

"Let me," Bill said, and kissed her neck again as he massaged her breast.

Tom tipped her head to one side, eyes flashing defiance. "Eat me," she husked in a low voice, unable to make herself sound angry rather than aroused.

"I'll do that, too," Bill assured her, and dipped his head to take her mouth.

Tom 'mmph'ed into the kiss, not protesting so much as caught off guard by the notion of Bill _down there_ , agile tongue licking out everything it could reach. She whimpered as Bill chased a line of thrilling heat over her bottom lip, nipped for entrance, and pushed into her mouth. She sighed as Bill stroked her stomach and wound himself around her. This was familiar, comforting. Sexy. She reached a hand up and back to drag his mouth more securely to hers when it seemed he might pull away, give her distance.

She didn't want time to think; she only wanted him.

As they kissed, Bill's hand gave her breast another loving squeeze before trailing down past her navel and toying with the rim of her sweatpants. Tom grunted and set a hand on Bill's fingers, quick to stop him before he pushed down in there.

Bill broke the kiss and nuzzled the side of her mouth. "Don't want me to?" he asked, sounding hopeful nonetheless.

"Nng," Tom responded. She twined their fingers and pushed their joined hands down into her pants.

Bill let out a slow breath, fanning it against her neck as their fingers pushed further down, stroking over coarse hair. Tom shuddered, entertaining a fleeting instant of embarrassment; Bill always shaved for her, yet she hadn't even trimmed in weeks. It was pushed aside by recognition that Bill really wouldn't care, he was that into Tom; and the flood of arousal that rushed to her belly, spreading outward and making even her nipples tighten, as fingers brushed over a sensitive nub of flesh.

"Ohh," Tom moaned, incoherent. She pushed Bill's hand, urging him on where she didn't quite dare go. The lack of cock was jarring, something she wasn't quite prepared to confront head-on, but the sensations that Bill was stirring in her body were enough to make up for that, keep her distracted at least.

"Haven't you said before," Bill whispered against her neck, easing his fingers down and swirling them around, exploring. "If you were a girl for a day, you'd definitely try sex?" He molded himself more closely to her body, pressing his hardness against her rear as one finger teased between a fold of flesh and found that hidden nub.

Tom cried out, arching her hips. Bill scattered tiny kisses across the back of her neck as he moved his hips, driving against her in slow, maddening rhythm. "Y-yeah," Tom faltered, brow creasing as she concentrated on the heady sensation of building ecstasy. It was different but good, so... "Oh god, don't stop!"

Bill shook his head, hair tickling the back of her neck. "Not gonna stop until I get in you."

“Nnn,” Tom protested, unsure if it was actually a protest or some kind of agreement.

“You'll let me, right?” Bill prompted, easing the leg he had between her thighs. “Who else would you trust this much?”

Tom squeezed her eyes shut, breath speeding up. She gave a few quick nods and bit her lip as Bill kissed the back of her neck again, licking, teeth denting light enough to avoid leaving a mark but enough to let her know Bill was there and feeling possessive.

“You want me to go down on you?” Bill murmured in her ear.

Tom produced an undignified noise, part squeak, part moan, at the thought of Bill's talented lips and tongue _down there_. She could barely handle extended fellatio sessions as a man; she had no idea how amazing things would go with this brand-new, distractingly sensitive girl body. “I...okay,” she said, after a slow exhale. She was going to come in no time flat, she could tell already, but it would be good because it was Bill. Everything they did was good, even if there were mishaps that made them laugh for a moment and try again. With trepidation, she added, “Go slow.”

Bill rubbed his leg between hers again and pulled his hand from her boxers. His fingers were glistening, tipped with moisture already, and looking at it made Tom groan and bury her face against the couch cushion.

“Hey,” Bill murmured, nuzzling against her jaw. “It's you and me. Just us here.” He nipped her jaw until she looked up, then popped his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them and raising a brow when her eyes widened.

Tom cooperated as Bill shifted their positions, laying her back on the couch and getting up over her for a moment, his beautiful face inscrutable as he looked down at her. He smiled, a soft and proprietary expression, before leaning to brush their noses together as though he'd plant a kiss on her mouth.

“You taste good,” he whispered, and angled lower. He kissed her chin, the hollow of her throat, and one hand moved to a breast pulled taut against the t-shirt that was trapped under her body. “Let's get rid of this, okay?”

Nodding, Tom arched her back to strip the t-shirt off over her head and the move angled her hips, pushing her groin up against Bill's. She moaned, surprised at how good it felt, intensified by Bill's answering groan as he pushed back against her.

"Fuck," Tom uttered.

With a heavy nod, Bill dipped his pelvis, letting his weight drive him against Tom's sensitive flesh.

"Ohh," Tom moaned, pausing in the act of hauling the t-shirt over her head. "Ohh, Bill..."

With impatient hands, Bill assisted her in stripping the shirt from her torso. He propped himself above Tom one-handed and looked down with bright eyes. His regard continued until Tom's cheeks began to burn, but she couldn't look away. She wriggled, and grabbed the hand Bill had rested high on her ribs, guiding it to her breast.

Tongue emerging to flick against his lip, Bill held Tom's eyes as he squeezed her breast, thumbing the hard little nipple and making Tom's eyes flutter.

“You're so sensitive,” he praised, dragging his thumb back and forth over her nipple and making her arch as it caused more sensation to pool in her belly.

“It's all so new,” Tom said, and made a noise of protest as Bill began to pull away.

He didn't go far, though. He bent over her and took the nipple in his mouth, dragging his tongue around it and bumping the stud against it with quick, repeated little touches. His free hand came up to massage her other breast.

Bill toyed with her breasts with his lips and tongue until Tom was shaking, opening her legs around Bill's weight and keening for more. At last he moved down, lavishing open-mouthed kisses from sternum to belly, and licked a path from her navel to just above the triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs.

“Are you really going to...?” Tom began, incredulous, knowing that Bill had _never_...not with a woman, anyhow. The sight of Bill's dark head poised above her groin drove home the fact that Tom had taken all of Bill's firsts, and here was another. Self-conscious, Tom wondered if the shower she'd taken a few hours ago was too great an interval. She raised a hand to stop him, to call a time-out, in case he wanted her to take another quick one, to freshen up. “Bill...”

Lowering his head, Bill licked into the top of the folds between Tom's legs and swirled his tongue, working it in and around and nudging up against something again and again that made Tom cry out and squeeze her legs around Bill's skinny shoulders. Bill grinned up at her, licked his lips, and placed his hands flat on her hips. He delved down in there again, laving his tongue up and down the crease and circling the tip of his tongue around that part of Tom that made the ecstasy bloom a thousandfold, swallowing up any protests or further hesitance.

Babbling hoarse, moderately profane endearments, Tom struggled to push her hips up against Bill's face as he licked into her, thrust his tongue in and out of her, and closed his lips around the sensitive bit of flesh. He sucked and sucked, and Tom screamed, writhing vainly to push up. Something was building, not unlike the climax Tom knew as a boy, but this one was different, hovering at the edge of Tom's perception at the same time she could tell it was like a cresting wave, poised to sweep her away.

Bill angled his tongue, bumping his tongue stud against the clit once, twice, as he sucked. Tom moaned and grabbed at his ears.

“Harder,” she begged, not recognizing her own hoarse voice.

Bill nodded, dipping his nose against her wet flesh before lapping at her again, pushing the head of his tongue stud _down_ against her clit with every stroke. He dug it in, moving his tongue fast and hard against the sensitive nub.

Tom moaned and wrapped her legs over Bill's shoulders and back, crushing his face to her, convulsing as she was wracked with shudder after shudder of coruscating pleasure. Through it all, Bill plied his tongue against her soft folds, licking against the hot little bud of the clit and triggering new, more powerful surges of ecstasy. Tom's legs tightened helplessly around Bill and she lay trembling beneath him as he worked her swollen flesh with lips and tongue until at last she tried to pull away, twitching.

"Ahh...ahh," Tom tried to shape words to let her twin know how good he'd made her feel.

Tom panted, looking down between her legs with sleepy, mostly-lidded eyes. Bill was raising his face from her groin with a rapt expression, his lips reddened, full, and wet. Tom stroked at his ears and the sides of his face, amazed that Bill could look so orgasmic only from bringing her off.

“Good?” Bill wanted to know.

“Nnnh,” Tom mumbled, trying to clench her thighs together as an aftershock speared through her. Mostly she wrapped her legs around Bill's neck and quaked.

Bill broke into a million-dollar smile. “Want to move this upstairs?” he asked, stroking his fingers up over one of her hips, rubbing his thumb in the arch of hipbone that was still visible, if somewhat more firmly-fleshed.

“I don't think I can walk,” Tom said, still dazed from the force of her first female orgasm. It wasn't...more, she decided. It seemed to involve more of her body than just her groin, though; it had been a radiating epicenter of pleasure that still tingled in her belly, her breasts, pulsing throughout her body and even radiating down her legs and rendering them sturdy as limp noodles.

Bill flashed her a sultry, wicked sort of look. “I can carry you,” he decided.

Tom squawked, attempted to struggle, and tried to roll off the couch but Bill only ignored her protests, stripped her sweats off the rest of the way, and scooped her up into his wiry arms. He was thin but unexpectedly strong; at least, compared to Tom's accustomed bench-press regimen. She hadn't particularly been accustomed to thinking of Bill as built. A few dogs trailed them interestedly through the house, only to whine in despair when Bill toed the door shut behind him, keeping them out in the hall.

“Bill...wait, Bill,” Tom pleaded, clinging to Bill's neck and battling a sense of the ridiculous. She'd been carried bridal-style over a threshold, but the union they were about to engage in was certainly not sanctioned in any church or civil marriage.

Bill pushed his head against hers, dark eyes intent. “You don't want to?” he questioned, sounding worried.

“No, that's not it,” Tom hedged. She gasped when Bill tumbled them both onto the bed, wriggling into position beside her. It was an effort of will not to grab one of the disheveled sheets and tug it over her naked body. She liked the breasts, definitely enjoyed touching them and having Bill grab and lick them as well, but it was in a special category of wrong because the breasts were attached to _Tom_ , who talked about boobies but had never claimed possession to a set of them.

Bill laid an arm over her waist, aligning their bodies close without quite touching. He was still in his tank top and track pants, barefoot, dark hair lacking any sort of product and feathering around his face.

“I love you, Tomi,” he said seriously. “I'm not going to do anything you don't want to, nothing that makes you uncomfortable.”

Tom squirmed. “That's not it...I want to,” she confessed, and squeezed her legs together. “I'm not quite ready yet.”

Enlightenment dawned on Bill's face. “Oh!” He covered the space between them and dotted a kiss on her nose, placed one beside it, and trailed down to kiss her mouth. “I thought girls had a faster recovery time.”

Tom snorted. “Yeah, but not, you know, _instantaneous,_ ” she replied. She hooked a leg over Bill's hip, considering. She was still wet, and relatively relaxed; it would probably feel really good if Bill got in her right now.

Bill's chuckle huffed warmly over her mouth. "We don't have to, you know, right away," he said. He nudged his mouth against Tom's, not quite kissing but placing himself within reach of a kiss.

Tom nodded, bringing their mouths together with the movement. "I want to," she said, easing her leg over Bill's side, caressing over his ass with her calf. "But you're way overdressed."


	2. Chapter 2

Bill sat up and began yanking his clothes off so fast, Tom stared and began to giggle. The sound startled her, reminding her of what she'd sounded like as a boy before puberty had set in, deepening her voice.

Tom lounged back on her elbows and grinned over at her eager brother, who'd thrown his tank top over the edge of their bed and was now kicking his track pants and boxers off. When he was naked, he turned with a familiar quirk of his brow. Tom raised her own in response and drew her knees up, slowly letting them come apart until they rested on the mussed sheets, exposing everything.

Bill's gaze traveled from her face down her body. He was hungry, Tom could tell; every bit as eager to have her this way as he'd been for sex with the two of them as men. Though Bill played the bottom role in their relationship, he truly wasn't gay, as he'd denied so many times. He was bisexual, as was Tom, but neither of them were interested in any option but each other.

With Tom stricken with this curse, whether temporary or permanent, it had one benefit for sure - it was allowing them to explore aspects of their sexuality that they never would have experienced, otherwise.

As Bill moved over the bed on all fours toward her, his eyes smoldered at her from beneath heavy lids and slivers of black bang that fell messily over his forehead. Tom's breath sped up.

"I love you," she said, caught off guard by it, needing to let him know before they continued further. She bit her lip and watched Bill light up from the inside out. He reached her and placed a hand on her leg, the other lingering at her ankle.

“You want me to...?” His hand smoothed up her inner thigh and Tom gasped, torn between closing her legs and spreading them a little wider. Bill crawled between her thighs and kissed the inside of one knee, trailing higher. “I can lick you out again, if you want.”

Tom moaned, the sound feeble, constricted. There wasn't enough room in her body for the swell of pleasure that rose up inside her at the mere words, at the branding touch of Bill's fingers on her skin, his mouth moving high up her femoral artery on a straight track for her groin.

“I don't think I could survive it,” Tom murmured. Bill ran his fingers up Tom's inner thigh and rested them over her groin, stroking to one side of her folds, and Tom flexed her legs closed, trapping Bill's hand down there. “I think...I think you should get in me.”

She was close enough to see Bill's eyes dilate as well as widen. He was very much aroused, as though his prettily-reddened dick wasn't proof enough, and Tom had kept him waiting all day. If she wanted to wait longer to give it a try, she knew Bill would let her put him off, placing her comfort above his own pleasure. The thought was reassuring and sent a flood of tenderness through Tom all at once. She wanted to be the one to take care of Bill, now.

“You sure?” Bill demanded hoarsely.

Tom bit her lip but nodded.

“What if you...Tom, you're basically a virgin,” Bill said, altering whatever he'd started out saying. “As such, there may be a certain anatomical challenge to, uh, overcome.” He dipped his head as though shy, but his dark eyes still burned on hers.

“I might have a hymen,” Tom returned, blunt. “I don't care. _Your_ first time wasn't that great, either.” They both snorted. Bill grinned down at her ruefully; Tom shook her head and tried not to laugh, because as a boy she'd been so young and horny and fucking clueless. They had both come, but Tom was pretty sure that had been out of sheer determination on both their parts.

Afterward, Bill had emailed Tom links to articles and diagrams on the prostate and proper use of lube.

“I'll be careful,” Bill promised. “So, so careful.” He hovered over her and planted himself full-length along her body, rubbing them together with a few jolting shoves that made them both moan. His lips were damp and messy on her neck.

"Condom, we need a condom," Tom gasped as she felt the wet tip of Bill's cock rub against her entrance.

"I'll pull out," Bill mumbled into her shoulder. He began kissing his way up her neck.

"Like hell you will!" Tom exclaimed, knowing how good it felt, how impossible it was to reign in desire and pull away when climax was only a few pumps away. How many times had she found release in Bill because it was within reach and he felt so good? "Condom, Bill. I'm a girl; what if...what if I can't change back?" She was aware she was giving mixed signals, legs wrapped tight around the backs of his thighs, yet couldn't help herself.

Bill's body atop hers, the heat of his straining cock poised at her now-feminine opening, was all she wanted.

The urgency and distress got through to Bill and he pulled his face away, propping himself over Tom. "You don't really think..." he began, trailing off until his expression mirrored Tom's residual anxiety.

"We don't _know_ , is the point," Tom said. She unwound her legs from Bill's. "So why take that risk?"

Bill nodded. Looking disappointed nonetheless, he got up to fetch a condom. When he returned, he propped himself up on one elbow beside Tom and cupped a hand over her groin.

“What are you doing?” Tom murmured as Bill leaned in to kiss her.

“Foreplay,” Bill murmured back, one index playing down around the most sensitive bit of flesh at the top of her folds. “I have to make sure you're wet, relaxed.”

“That's what lube is for,” Tom said with a blink.

“Not anymore,” Bill replied, and brushed his mouth along her jaw, tipping her head back and kissing the mole on her neck before working back up toward her lips.

Tom gasped as Bill slipped a finger into her. _I'll never call you the untalented one again_ , she thought, lost in the next second to the way Bill's tongue skillfully plied her mouth open as he worked one finger, then two, inside of her.

“You're so hot,” Bill said when he let her up for air. “God, you're so wet, Tom, you must be...”

Tom averted her face, beyond embarrassed. “Ready,” she interjected. “I'm ready for you, okay? Put it in.”

“So romantic,” Bill mumbled, and skimmed his lips down her neck again.

He kissed and licked at her breast, working two fingers in her, and Tom decided she'd had enough. She wrapped a leg around his narrow waist, heel half-kicking against his ass, and squeezed her thighs around Bill.

“Get. In. Me,” Tom demanded. Everything was throbbing, and yet she knew somehow it would be better with _Bill's_ throbbing bit inside her.

Bill smirked against her left breast. His tongue flicked the nipple once more, making Tom give a husky cry and rock her hips up against him, which only drove his fingers deeper.

“Come on,” Tom pleaded. “I have to be ready enough now.”

Bill pulled up onto his arms to look at her seriously, his make-up free eyes both glorious and grave. “I don't want to hurt you,” he admitted.

Tom's eyes flicked to the left, where a little something had been left on the pillow beside them. “The condom's lubricated,” she offered. “That'll be...”

“No, I mean...” Bill stopped and bit his lip. “What if it hurts too much?”

“Then you'll stop, and we'll do something else,” Tom said, giving Bill a peaceful smile. She knew Bill would pull out even if he was a second from coming. Probably. If he could tell she was in pain. She made up her mind that instant that this was going to be amazing, wonderful and pain-free, and she was already so relaxed and horny and wouldn't show an instant of discomfort.

“Okay,” Bill said, breathing heavily. He nodded and caressed her inner thigh. “Okay, I'm gonna...” Instead of finishing his sentence he sat up and reached for the condom.

Tom took it out of his fingers.

“Tomi, we have to--” Bill began, sounding shocked.

“I know,” Tom said, arching a brow. “But I'm gonna put it on you.” 

“Okay!”

Bill looked so excited and lust-hungry that Tom had no heart to tell him she was afraid Bill might put a hole in it with his nails. Not to mention, Bill was more accustomed to putting condoms on with his mouth - on Tom - than anything else. Tom took it out and worked it over Bill's tip before rolling it down, enjoying the way his eyes fluttered with pleasure. Focusing on the way his mouth fell open, the hand that reached over to stroke Tom's arm, the warm toes nudging her ankle, Tom let herself get lost in the little details to avoid confronting the fact that she was about to experience the kind of sex she'd never imagined she would.

Ever.

“Oh god,” Tom gasped, as Bill hovered over her, braced on one hand, the other stroking from the side of her face into her braids. The realization sank in that Bill was going to do it; do _her_.

“Shh,” Bill soothed her, and dipped his hips as he leaned in to kiss her mouth. “Not doing anything.” 

"Yet," Tom mumbled.

Bill grinned at her and kissed over her mouth, nuzzling against her and licking from the outside, swirling around the lip ring, teasing the tip between her lips before sinking in and stroking against her tongue. He breathed against her lips and licked between them, seeking her tongue.

Tom moaned, relaxing into the kiss.

By the time Bill's cock brushed against the folds of her groin again, this time Tom was beyond relaxed. Bill's tongue pressed into her mouth and she wanted something else pressing against and into her, too.

Bill's hand caressed from her braids to her shoulder in a soothing motion. He swept his fingers down along one arm and laced their fingers together.

“You're such an incurable romantic,” Tom teased when they resurfaced for air.

Bill's dark, needy eyes flashed at her from across the short distance between them. “Don't kid yourself,” he rasped, and dipped his hips, dragging the head of his cock against her entrance and making her flinch even as her legs settled open. “You are, too.” His fingers flexed on hers and he reached down with his other hand to adjust his entry.

Tom's head tipped back as Bill loomed over her, pushing the blunt head of his cock in. There was resistance, making her eyes widen – Tom had thought she was as relaxed as she ever got. In the next moment the tight pressure became painful and Tom found herself clenching her teeth before she could think to stop it. 

“It's okay, it's okay,” Bil soothed, scattering kisses over her face, her parted lips, trailing his mouth up along one cheekbone to rub his mouth beside her ear. He whispered, “Relax, relax, I love you.” His hand caressed up her side, a soothing touch from hip to breast and back again.

Tom whimpered, tilting her hips to try to ease the ache. Bill wasn't moving and all of a sudden the throbbing was more burn than anything else, an abrupt pain that would brook no further entry.

“I'm pulling out,” Bill announced.

“No!” Tom cried, wrapping her legs up and around Bill's narrow hips. As she folded her legs together over his lower back he slid deeper and they both groaned. It ached, but the throb let her know they were building toward a crescendo.

“I'm hurting you,” Bill whispered, pushing up so that Tom could see his face.

Tom tried to smile and grimaced. “You hurt me good,” she murmured, stretching up to kiss his jaw, turned on all over again by the faint shadow of stubble he'd missed beneath his chin.

They stared into one anothers' eyes for a moment before bursting into giggles. Tom clutched at Bill's shoulders and moaned, "Keep going, you know a little pain doesn't scare me," to which Bill responded by tightening his hand in hers.

"The pain of love," Bill replied to her words. He kissed each corner of her mouth before nudging his nose against hers and covering her mouth completely.

Bill scattered sweet, gentle kisses across her open mouth, lips working across and against her without dipping his tongue within. Tom gravitated into the kiss, trying to catch his wet-velvet maddening lips with her own. Releasing a little chuckle, Bill closed his mouth over hers again.

As Tom concentrated on Bill's kiss, opening under his tongue, his cock nudged deeper inside. Her eyes fluttered shut. It was still painful, an indescribable swollen ache more than any other sensation, but the fading pain was being submerged beneath a roil of desire that snaked through her belly and lower. Bill was in her, every inch, his flat belly resting against hers, his lips catching and releasing her own. His other hand kneaded her breast as he propped himself above her.

"Feels...ah...good," Tom assured him, as Bill continued to rest his weight on her. 

Bill peered at her with worry clouding the desire in his dark eyes. "Still hurts, though."

"That's just...nnng, not used to it," Tom gasped out. "Ahh, fuck me!"

It was half swear, half entreaty, and Bill took Tom at her word. He rocked into her, thrusting her into the give of the bed. Tom uncoiled her legs and let them fall to either side of Bill's trim hips, watching in a kind of daze as he worked his cock in and out. There was a ghost remnant of pain, but Tom was concentrated now on the throbbing that was underlaid with a core of desire. She wanted Bill to reach it.

They rocked together, slow but building up heat with each thrust, each drag of Bill's cock with each progressively less painful retreat, and the surge of pleasure that came when he pushed back in. Tom could tell she was tight and she wasn't even trying to clamp down on him. Bill's eyes were glazed and his breath came with increasingly desperate pants; Tom had a feeling he wasn't going to last long enough to bring her to orgasm again.

"Bill," Tom gasped out, about to tell him to go for it, chase his own climax to completion and he could finish her off by hand or mouth. It would be just as good, as satisfying, because it was _them_ and Bill teased out fabulous orgasms whether Tom was male or female. Bill shuddered over her, dipping his head until his bangs dripped across her forehead, and she recognized the determination in his eyes. He leaned over her and loosened his grasp on her hand. He rested their bodies together, stroking her face, her neck. His other hand gripped at her hip and with his body pressed full-length along hers, he began to rock, slow but sure.

"Ohh," Tom moaned, rotating her hips to press up against Bill. The weight atop her was rubbing against her clit as they moved. She hooked a leg around Bill's ass, one thigh, and dragged their bodies closer as Bill moved faster, faster. "Keep...nnnh, keep doing that!"

Bill nodded, hair brushing over her face. He propped himself up on both hands and hovered, giving her an amazing grin as though he could feel each surge of pleasure that went through her, spreading throughout her groin and radiating, it seemed, everywhere. There was no limit to it. The pleasure built and built and Tom cried out, trying to pull away before it could break over her and consume her utterly. Bill drove into her again and again, reaching down to seek out her clit and ply it with his thumb.

Tom screamed as the pleasure crested, glorious fireworks of sensation blooming throughout her body. She stared up at Bill, her mouth open as the radiating pleasure kept coursing through her, making her shiver and tighten down on Bill's dick repeatedly. Bill gasped and squeaked, a tremor going through him. He withdrew part-way, plunged into her and held himself there, gripping at her hip, her shoulder, kissing her neck as he joined her in the headlong rush over the edge.

There was only a little discomfort as Bill withdrew and Tom tried to cling to him anyhow, mourning the loss of that connection. As Bill settled down beside her and made a long arm to dispose of the condom, there was a part of Tom that wished, however fleeting, that they could have gone without. It was always wonderful feeling Bill inside, _really_ feeling it, and Tom missed the chance now.

"Mmm, come here," Bill said, snaring Tom with one arm and rolling their bodies together.

Tom grinned and snuggled her face into Bill's neck. With a lover like Bill, one never had to worry about a lack of post-coital cuddling. She didn't even have to ask; Bill fulfilled her in every way.

“Again?” Bill inquired, sounding hopeful and exhilarated all at once.

Tom groaned and tugged the sheet up over their intertwined bodies. “Later, okay? Need a little...nap...now.” The downside to the Kaulitz sex drive was that Bill wanted to fulfill it again, and again, and again.

They fell asleep together, Bill's soft snores burbling against her temple. Tom knew that despite some soreness, it was definitely something for which a repeat performance was desired. For comparison purposes if nothing else...

* * *

Waking with a snort, Tom cast about in the sea of rumpled sheets on the bed, wondering why it felt as though there had been a sudden drop and the floor had bottomed out from beneath everything, like jolting out of a dream. Peeling back the sheet revealed a flat expanse of chest, a complete lack of any furry dog bodies or warm pliant twin, and a sight that made Tom's heart swell with joy.

Or gonads. Could gonads swell with joy?

"Hello there," Tom greeted his penis with a besotted little smile.

He ran his hands down his chest, or absence thereof, reaching narrow, trim hips. Tom tipped his head back into the pillow and wondered if it had all been a strange, somewhat hallucinatory dream.

The bed jostled beneath him and Bill sprawled in a jumble beside him, trailing a manicured hand down his shoulder and feeling up Tom's left pectoral. He gave Tom's nipple an affectionate pinch.

"Oh," Bill said, sounding disappointed, "I wanted to play with those some more."

"My tits?" Tom mumbled.

"Mm-hmm."

"So it wasn't a dream?" Tom said, nosing Bill's shoulder before planting a kiss on one slender deltoid. There was still a hint of stubble on Bill's jaw. He couldn't have been asleep for very long.

"Unless we both had some amazing shrooms, I'm pretty sure that happened," Bill replied. He reached up and tugged a fistful of Tom's braids. "I'll call Jost and let him know we'll be available tomorrow. If he isn't over his fit of hysterics from ogling your nice rack."

"Ugggh," Tom expressed his opinion of that. As Bill got up, patting his cheek, Tom contemplated rolling over and planting his face in the pillow, going back to sleep. Mutinous for the moment about diving headlong back into more work after enjoying the prospect of a free day, possibly a free _week_ until they fixed whatever was wrong and broke the curse, Tom remained in bed for long moments. He humped the mattress experimentally, but it was really no fun unless there was a Bill to turn it into a wrestling match and leisurely fooling around.

A thought prodded him from bed. The curse was broken, and he wondered if Bill would remember to tell David to call off the search for the crazy fangirl who had set it on him. He certainly didn't want to see her _now._

Tom rolled out of bed, put on a pair of boxers, and went unerringly for the office at the rear of the house. It was another facet of being themselves that they never particularly questioned, or noticed until someone called attention to it – if they were in the same building, they always knew where the other was.

The soft ticking of nails over a keyboard greeted Tom before he walked into their office. Bill's phone was set beside him, dark and silent. His eyes were intent on his laptop and he chewed consideringly at his lip.

"What are you doing?" Tom wanted to know. He rubbed at the base of his neck, stroking at his braids.

Bill craned his head, eyes wide. "Seeing if Google can help me find a list of pro-feminist witches for you to piss off."

Tom groaned.

Bill added, pleased with himself, "I think I'll send them personal invites to meet and greets."

"Look, I learned my lesson!" Tom said hastily. "You reap what you sow! Or something...look, that doesn't mean I'll sow it again..."

Bill gave him knowing eyes. “Tom, Tom.” He clucked his tongue. “All I have to do is put you into the same _room_ with a girl and you'll fuck up within five minutes.”

Tom groaned. “You enjoyed that way too much,” he accused, and wasn't sure if he was talking about the dig or the hetero sex they'd both engaged in with such enthusiasm. “Lesson over.”

"What if the lesson was that you had to have sex with someone you loved before you changed back?" Bill suggested, sliding a hand up Tom's thigh as Tom came into range.

"Fuck, she didn't have to change me into a girl for that," Tom said, pulling a face. "I have sex with someone I love all the time."

Bill grinned over at him. "But I sure did enjoy it. Sure you don't want to go for it again...?"

“Well.” Tom bent over Bill's shoulder, peering at his search results. “We never did get to go for round two.”


End file.
